Blaze (22 page)

It didn't take long before he was laughing at the dialogue dominated by Denis Leary's character,
Tommy Gavin.
It also wasn't long before he was drawn in by the dramatic elements of sorrow that occupied his favorite character, Chief Jerry Reilly. It was the episode entitled
Commitment
and Jerry tragically took his own life with a pistol to the mouth. The show had never been the same going forward without him, Blaze thought, as he logged off of his Netflix account, fluffed his pillow, and laid his head down. He dreamt about being stateside and prayed that the safe house would remain safe through the night. Although he tried not to, his sleep occurred primarily with one eye open.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CIA SAFE HOUSE, SOMEWHERE IN IRAN

B
laze awoke and sprung out of bed with purpose. He put on his Under Amour workout shorts and a white wifebeater tee shirt. He was full of energy and a strong eagerness to get on with the day. He thanked the Lord that he awoke to an alarm clock, and not the safe house alarm indicating they'd been detected. An annoying, persistent buzz was far preferable to a pack of Iranian Revolutionary Guard members storming in with heavy firearms.

He washed down a handful of various vitamins and supplements with a chocolate protein shake as he sipped a cup of black coffee for breakfast. Afterwards Blaze proceeded to the small workout room within the safe house compound. His mind was scattered and he needed the workout not only to train his body, but to organize his mind so he could get a grip on the day. He had many conversations ahead of him with key people in his life and he needed to optimize each one.

He strapped on a weighted vest for extra resistance before starting his training. He was used to vests, but usually his were bulletproof. He wanted to get his heart rate up quickly, so he started with some jump rope for about three minutes or so. Then he hit the agility ladder for five minutes. Blaze grabbed the sandbag and contorted his body to complete various movements. Then he moved on to some rigorous kettle bell swings before finishing his full kettle bell routine. Lastly, he did some heavy rope training for his back and shoulder muscles.

The last twenty minutes of his regimen was consumed by working the speed bag and heavy bag with a battering consistency. All the while his iPod ear buds blasted a mix of various tunes ranging from AC/DC to Everlast to Mastodon to Ted Nugent. Mastadon's
Leviathon
album really summoned the guttural beast within—which helped to effectuate an intense and purposeful workout. The Nuge made him want to hunt down terrorists as if there was a forest somewhere that held every angry jihadist the world over, waiting to become his target. Uncle Ted provided the most appropriate soundtrack for such a sensibility. Everlast helped him find his groove on the speed bag and keep his head cool to plan his day. AC/DC did what AC/DC does; provide soul satisfying blues based rock ‘n' roll in a way that none else ever have or will deliver.

After a quick shower, Blaze was dressed in a white V-neck undershirt, with a dog tag necklace dangling perfectly in the space left vacant by the V-cut, and a pair of camouflage shorts. He wasted no time before grabbing a cold water bottle and firing up his MacBook to bang out the report for Gallagher.

He described the prep work, the transportation details, the dialogues he heard and engaged in and every sequential detail contained within the scope of the whole mission. He was still not sure what tipped them off and made him a suspicious element prior to the point in which they discovered his obvious Farsi deficiencies. He hoped that the larger context of his report might somehow provide a clue to an analyst back at Langley as to what might have lead to the initial suspicion.
Was it a flaw in my cosmetic job that transformed me from a Mick to a Persian? Was it my general demeanor? I thought I was pretty slick, believable, and unassuming. It couldn't have been my lack of being familiar. We made sure we impersonated a delivery truck and company that constantly sent new guys as to not make them wonder.
Blaze couldn't figure it out for the life of him.

The real question, the one Gallagher would dwell on, is if they somehow knew ahead of time to be on the lookout.
Had there been a damn leak? A fricken' rat?
Nothing got Blaze's blood boiling more than a rat from the inside. A dirty traitor. Blaze would have to continue to give that mystery a good, hard think over the next few days. For now, he would have to put that question aside and finish his report in earnest.

Although he wished he could avoid it, Blaze confessed fully to his failure to get his Farsi in order as he should have. This was ultimately the main hiccup of the entire op. Had he had that dialed in, he may have overcome the enemies initial suspicions and avoided the capture, the car chase and the subsequent shenanigans in the alley way where he picked up the motorcycle. Blaze chuckled to himself thinking,
but what the hell fun would that have been?
The high speed chase and alleyway showdown was a blast in retrospect, but at the time that he had finally broke free of it all and was out of the woods, Blaze was a tad shaken up—even for an old spook who frequently boasted of maintaining nerves of steel. He was more than blessed to have come out of that snafu unscathed. It was Providence. For sure.

Blaze continued tapping the keys rhythmically for the duration of his report as he focused on the things that went right, including his improvisation and handling of things after they went wrong.
What's a good spy if he isn't flexible? A plan ain't nothing but a rough intended trajectory. The proof of a spook's value comes in the ability to adapt to every unexpected twist and turn that inevitably plagues every op.
And to that end, Blaze was successful. As usual.

Blaze wrapped up his report and promptly fired it off via a secure encrypted e-mail to Gallagher. It was about an hour or so before their scheduled call, so he shot him a quick secure text to let him know that the report had been sent. Blaze's stomach was screaming for vengeance like an old Judas Priest album. It was time for lunch.

After devouring a barbeque chicken sandwich on a whole-wheat roll with a side of green beans, Blaze took a quick minute to mentally prepare for his videoconference with Gallagher. After a quick review of his report, he logged into the secure videoconference portal. It was proprietary software, but functioned pretty much identically to Skype. Blaze logged in and waited about a minute or so before seeing that Gallagher had logged in. Gallagher's edgy, ugly mug popped up on the screen and his trademark intensity was instantly visible.

“McIntyre. I read that damn report of yours. As usual, your literary abilities serve to paint a rosy picture of what happened.”

“I paint the picture I see boss, and if you were there, you'd see the same damn picture.”

“Alright, alright, let's cut to the chase. I'm glad you got your ass out of there alive and got the job done, but you clearly were playing hooky the day they taught Farsi. Don't think I'm going to overlook that.” Gallagher knew nothing else other than to break balls, even in the best of circumstances, no compliment ever left his lips prior to a cascade of unrelenting, insensitive ball breaking.

“Boss, not sure how I would've carried on all this time had it not been for all of your gushing, dripping encouragement.”

“Screw you Blaze. It's spooks like you that scare the hell out of directors like me. Criticism, failures, and shit hitting the fan rolls off your shoulders like soft raindrops and you keep rolling on, op after op, surviving and completing missions without even a minute of real self-analysis. I'm hard on you because I'm trying to teach you how to take inventory of your skills and habits. Your success rate is great, but your weaknesses still need to be isolated and neutralized. That ain't gonna happen if you keep glossing over them so you can emphasize and feel good about your strengths. And I'm afraid that, one day, a tiny weakness will either kill you or put our nation in great danger, all because your ego won't deflate for a damn millisecond.” For once, Gallagher got to the real heart of the matter. And although he was heated as usual, it was clear to Blaze that there was a truckload of genuine concern in his voice. Also clear to Blaze was that the man had a very good point and his wisdom was deep.

“Point taken Chuck. I'll look for ways to deflate my ego in the future, unless of course I'm stuck sparring with you. Then the ego will be in full effect and I'll whoop your ass like usual.” Blaze heard him loud and clear and wanted to move on to the next agenda item, but had to return a round of ball breaking to attempt to keep some semblance of an even score.

“Moving on to other important things. Our asset in Natanz got pinched. But we aren't sure if it had anything at all to do with the actual operation. Apparently, he had converted from Islam to Christianity recently and his own wife found his Bible at his house and turned it in to the authorities. He went ballistic when they confronted him and shot one of the Iranian cops right in the crotch. Needless to say, he was thoroughly beaten and is currently locked up.”

“So where's that leave us? We can't leave such an asset in their hands to torture him. The Iranians have a strong history of squeezing every last bit of info out of a prisoner.” Blaze knew what was coming next.

“Stay posted Blazey boy, we're working on some preliminary plans for a hot extraction as we speak and it looks like you and your old convict pal Zack will be the lucky action heroes for this little charade.”

“Been a while since I worked with Zack, and I'm about due for a new mid-life crisis adventure. Game on.” Blaze's voice rose with excitement.

“I'll get back to you soon on the details. Also, I might sprinkle in a few assassinations for you and Zack to keep things interesting. Scientists. We'll probably due it Israeli style. Mossad isn't beyond accepting some extra manpower on this stuff, and it's important we fill in any gaps. We need to put as many nails as we can in the temporary coffin for this nuke problem. Iranians have a way of resurrecting pretty frequently.”

“So what you're saying is I probably won't see my wife and kids for at least another year?”

“I didn't say anything of the sorts. You're a professional. You'll get these assignments wrapped up in no time at all and you'll be in Diem's arms before you know it. Godspeed.”

“Roger that.”

Blaze pondered the implication of the escalation of Operation Persian Trinity and was wondering how it would all unravel. He was excited on a professional level to get some more opportunities to do what he did best, and there was no more worthwhile target of his deadly skills than the Iranian nuclear scientists and the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. That said, he missed Diem and the boys more than ever, and was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his going back into the field.
Maybe I should have just stuck it out with the drudgery of the suit and tie guy life. I didn't need to know Farsi to get home alive every day when I was wearing wing tips. I'm no good to my family if I'm dead.
It only took a few minutes for the reality of who Blaze truly was to creep back into his consciousness.
I am definitely no good to my family dead. And dead is what I was when I wore wing tips. Now, I am fully alive and serving my country as God intended.
Resolved in this affirmation, Blaze's thoughts turned to Pastor McCardle, whom he was fixing to call.

It seemed like Liam was having a helluva time in Belfast. Blaze wondered if he'd ever make his way back to Detroit. If he didn't, Blaze sure as hell couldn't blame him. A city that had its streetlights repossessed wasn't exactly a city that was on a path to retaining happy citizens. If it was struggling before, it was a veritable warzone now.

Blaze was more than happy to have a chat with Liam after the always-abrasive chat he just endured with Gallagher. He logged into the secure video conferencing portal and got connected with Pastor McCardle.

“Liam! How are you my friend? How's Ireland treating you?” Blaze was genuinely thrilled to see Liam's face on the computer screen. He had furnished Liam with access to the proprietary software for the videoconference after clearing with Langley. When you were a stranger in a strange land, acting as an imposter with ill intent, and doing strange things in dangerous places, a familiar and friendly face was a huge mood enhancer.

“Ireland is as magical as I remember it in my youth. Much has changed, but of course, much has also stayed the same. Many old faces, with many old stories, and quite a bit of love remains here. My mother won't stop badgering me about staying here permanently. Although, I've told her that's an absurd notion, I'm indeed going to stay here longer than originally planned. I'm really enjoying myself.”

“Well that's fantastic. Any respite from Detroit is a good thing, but an extended trip to the land of your youth to visit with old family and friends is unbeatable. How's the fill-in pastor managing with your flock back in the Motor City?” Blaze might have been right about Liam never returning to Detroit, from the sound of things.

“Oh, you know, the flock responds well to me, but ultimately it's the Lord who steers their ways. I am sure they're doing just fine with my substitute. More importantly, how's your family doing while you're in harm's way poking it deliberately in the eye with a sharp stick?”

“Not totally sure, but okay from what I gather. I have a call with Diem after I get off the phone with you.”

“How's your work treating you, Blaze?”

“I can't say too much, but let's just say I had few hiccups but still met my initial objective. One of those initial objectives is remaining alive.”

“Good to hear. I've been somewhat disconnected from things going on in the world since being here in Ireland visiting, but I've managed to pick up bits and pieces when I'm able. Good ol' Koslov is not backing down with his blatant political interference on behalf of Samani at the U.N. Koslov has also increased his military presence on the Iranian border guarding the straights of Hormuz. It appears the knots that tie together the allied enemies of Israel, as detailed in the prophesies of Ezekiel 38 and 39, are growing stronger. I'm so thankful to know that you're in a position to be instrumental in potentially thwarting these developments and alliances. God willing.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll be sure to recall such support next time I'm in the heat of it. Every ounce of positive encouragement helps fortify the spirit. So what's the deal with you staying longer in Ireland?” Blaze had a feeling there was more to this newfound extended stay than just Liam's desire to spend more time with his aging mother.